


Moonlight Sonata

by irishlullaby13



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Other, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 09:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6047062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a little AU fic with the prompt of:  I live next to a famous piano player and it's pretty cool but for the past four hours I've heard nothing but 'chopsticks' and it's really worrying me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Movement 1

He recalled the first time he ever saw her in the crowded sheriff's department. She had come to deliver a coffee to her foster father, Sheriff Corbin, whilst they investigated the beheading of the recently fallen Lt. Andy Brooks. He was helping the good sheriff because headless spectres in revolutionary war era clothing was apparently his new speciality.

She didn't even notice him, despite the brief moment their eyes met and he felt that... _spark_. He _knew_ her. Perhaps from another time or another place but part of him felt a connection beyond the superficial. The closer she got, the stronger it felt... as though the very strings of fate were drawing them toward each other.

Grace Abigail Mills didn't so much as acknowledge his presence when she approached Sheriff Corbin. And Sheriff Corbin, quite rudely did not introduce them. So, Ichabod Crane watched her chatter about the specification of the coffee she brought and how, despite the fact it was not exactly how he liked it, it fit with the orders from Sheriff Corbin's doctor.

“Gotta hurry,” Abbie said, giving Corbin a kiss on the cheek and a hug. “Work, work, work... gotta make some money.”

Then she whisked herself away, out the door again. Ichabod took two brief steps in the direction she had gone as though she were propelling him along behind her by sheer force of will. It was only by Sheriff Corbin's hand on his arm that he stopped. “I know what you're thinking son, and I can tell you now... don't even think about it.”

“But... she...”

“Is off limits,” Corbin interrupted. “The last thing she needs is to get tangled up in all this mess.”

  
#  


“So who was that guy with you this morning?” Abbie asked, before stuffing her face with a freshly baked roll. While the sheriff was by no means a master chef, he could make some damn good home made breads. “He was kinda cute.”

The man that had taken her and her sister in when no one else would peered at her over his newspaper. “That was Mister Crane... he's consulting with us on a case.” 

As if on cue, her sister strode in the screen door clamping shut loudly behind her. Jenny fixed Sheriff Corbin with a hard glare as she removed her side arm and handcuffs. “The _new consultant_ is an asshole.” The sheriff snorted to conceal a laugh. “It's not funny. He went into a forty-five minute rant about how rainbows shoot out of Thomas Jefferson's ass because Morales brought up Sally Hemmings.”

Corbin arched a brow. “Rainbows huh?”

Jenny rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. He didn't _literally_ talk about rainbows but you just got the impression that was the case.”

Once again, Corbin fixed his gaze on Abbie. “Your sister says he's an asshole and you know what Mrs. Corbin used to say about assholes.”

“Everybody's got one?” Abbie teased. Corbin scoffed and shook his head. She put on her sweetest, smallest tone. “Don't waste your time with assholes, Abbie, because that's all they do... waste your time. You have a bright future ahead of you if you want it, all you have to do is stay focused.”

“And so far it's worked out in your favour,” Jenny pointed out. “And trust me, this guy is just... yeah. You don't even want to go near the crap he's involved with right now. You've worked too hard to have a good and normal life to throw it all away on him.”

Abbie arched an eyebrow. “I heard one of the officers was murdered while on duty last night.”

Both Jenny and Corbin nodded grimly. “Andy Brooks,” Corbin said regretfully. “Should have been me but... I sent him to investigate the noise in the barn because you know how Mr. Oglevie was. He never liked Andy. Both him and Oglevie were decapitated by the same guy.”

“And then the new consultant got dragged in because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Jenny added. 

_Damn_ , Abbie thought. She remembered going to school with Andy. She remembered Mr. Oglevie giving her and Jenny sweets after church when they were kids. Normally Jenny worked the night shift with Corbin, but she had swapped shifts with Andy. It _could have_ been her that was dead.

And then there was also the possibility that it could have been Abbie, herself. If she hadn't been offered a full scholarship to Juilliard, she may have been at the sheriff's department too. While it was sad Andy was gone, she hated to think of Jenny or Corbin being the one dead.

  
#  


“Don't wander off too far,” Jenny scolded.

Ichabod snorted and wandered right off. It was one thing to have to be escorted everywhere for his safety. It was quite another to have not one but _two_ people treating him as though he were a misguided child who couldn't be trusted with a pair of scissors. It wouldn't be so bad if they were actually working on the case they “kept him onboard” for, but they were currently investigating a “fender bender” at the local college.

The place was a cesspool, to put it lightly. One building was closed for renovations, the “gymnasium” reeked of stagnate water, and he didn't even have words to describe the state of the arts and sciences building. The only salvation, it seemed, was the so-called “Student's Centre” which looked recently built.

It was this building which housed a meagre library which did not hold his interest for very long. Which that in and of itself was amazing considering he loved libraries. Of course it may have been the fact the librarian shooed him out of the door not even five minutes after his arrival so she could “close up.” 

He sighed heavily and shoved his hands into his pockets as he stood in the massive, open foyer of the Student Centre. It seemed the only option he had was to return to Miss Jenny and Master Corbin's sides—which, at the moment, that held no appeal either.

Ichabod was heading for the exit when the sound of music gave him pause. He closed his eyes and focused on the gentle sounds of the piano. His feet guided him to a small auditorium where a young woman—Abbie, he remembered with sharp clarity—was playing for a small group of children of various ages.

So many times he had already caught glimpses of her and quickly turned away because he did not wish to meet the wrath of his new acquaintances.

He stood in the door, peering in through the tiny sliver of window, transfixed. Just as he had been when he first saw her. Also, just as had happened every time saw her, he felt the strange tug of something urging him toward her. But, at the same time, Master Corbin and Miss Jenny's warnings rang around in his head.

_Off limits._

_She made her choice. She wanted a normal life._

He wished he could adequately convey to them that fate often cares not one bit what a person _chooses_. Fate would eventually find a means to bring them together and there wouldn't be anything Miss Jenny or Master Corbin would be able to do about it. But he would respect their wishes, regardless. 

Ichabod closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against the frame of the small window. It was there Miss Jenny located him. “It's called Moonlight Sonata. Beethovan. It's one of her favourites.”

He startled and immediately stood at attention out of habit, hands clasped behind his back. “I did not purposely seek her out,” he defended, despite the fact he hadn't been accused of doing so. “I heard the music and investigated...”

Jenny chuckled and shook her head. “Calm down soldier boy,” she said lightly. “I didn't say you did. I just didn't know if you were familiar with the tune. She gives the kids lessons while their parents are in class. Sometimes they just want to hear her play so she does that instead. Doesn't do it to get paid... just does it because she wants to.” She tugged on his coat sleeve. “Come on, August said he'd get us some Starbucks on the way back to the station.”

She laughed when Ichabod grumbled lightly followed by a less than enthusiastic, “If we must...”

  
#  


Abbie wasn't sure what made her look up. The children had been silent and _he_ hadn't made a sound to attract her attention. All she knew was that she had looked up and seen his face through the long, narrow window on the auditorium door. His eyes had been closed, just enjoying the music.

One day, she told herself. One day she would find a way to actually meet the strangely dressed man that seemed to turn up wherever she went. Something told her it wouldn't be in Sleepy Hollow, where too many eyes could see it and report it to Sheriff Corbin or Jenny.

It was funny how she felt such a connection with someone she technically had never met. Oh, their eyes had met through crowds, across rooms, and now through windows. She had tried to make her way to him, just to fucking say hello since he was a work friend of both her sister and the man that was like a father to her. 

He had obviously been told to keep his distance from her. Because each time she tried to make her way to him, by time she got there, he was gone. She told herself that it was the longing in his eyes that made her curious about him. But she knew deep down it was the fact both Corbin and Jenny warned her against interacting with him that made her want to do precisely that.

If she hadn't been in the middle of a song, she would have rushed out to try and catch him before he slipped away. But, of course, by time she finished he was nowhere to be seen. She drew in a deep breath and told herself _next time_.

  
#  


The best they could do was forge the right documents to allow him the opportunity to be an instructor at Westchester Community College—the very same droll place he had witnessed Abbie playing for the children. Apparently the standards there were not too high and they didn't delve too deeply into one's history when desperate to find someone to fill a position.

Doctorates from prestigious universities were much harder to forge, he was told. But they could at least look up his name and see that he had the basic qualifications for the job.

But that didn't matter to Ichabod. At least it was _something_ and no one alive knew more about the American Revolution than he did. Although he did have to brush up a bit on what was currently in the textbooks. It was something to fill the hours that would otherwise be spent pacing restlessly in the cabin the sheriff had so graciously allowed him to borrow. It also proved to be a most welcome distraction.

From... well, everything.

Well, almost everything.

It caused certain someone's to be even more distracting. Because she would peep in through the window pane on his class room door. Or linger just outside of the open doorway. Or just walk in and make herself comfortable near the back where the other 'visitors' were instructed to sit so they would not be a distraction for the people that actually paid to take the class.

He dreaded the days she sat in. Mostly because his hands wouldn't stay still. He twitched, he cringed, he forgot what he was trying to say and made frustrated sounds until he remembered, and he had more than one concerned student inquired if he had ever been tested for an ailment called tourettes. _No_ , he wanted to tell them. He had a case of _she's right there in front of me and I cannot say a word to her or there will be hell to pay_.

No matter how he looked at it, there would be hell to pay. If he told her the truth she would probably distance herself because she thought he was insane. If he so much as said hello, Miss Jenny threatened to do unspeakable things to his person. He was fairly certain Sheriff Corbin wouldn't do anything, he wanted Abbie to help them but he wanted it to be her choice.

But how could she make the choice without even knowing the second option even existed?

What had he been lecturing about?

His eyes flittered to the clock. _Oh thank God_ , he thought wearily. “And it seems I have run out of time,” he stated. He swiped his hand toward the door and everyone eagerly leapt to their feet but took their time meandering out. 

Ichabod retreated to his desk and hid himself as best he could behind the stacks of books on top of it.

  
#  


Abbie hesitantly approached his desk. He was hiding behind stacks of books and if she wasn't mistaken he was banging his head against the wood surface. The students were acting as though this were a perfectly normal occurrence with their instructor and didn't even cast a second glance in his direction as they made their way out.

She tried to think of something witty to say to break the ice. Something that wouldn't piss off someone that was clearly already having a very bad day. Or maybe she should go with concerned?

When his cell phone rang, she didn't know what startled her more, the phone ringing or the fact he nearly went through the ceiling because it had startled him too. He clamoured for the phone, muttering with frustration as he tried to answer it. _New phone most likely_ , Abbie reasoned.

Once he managed to answer, he held it to his ear as though it would explode at any given second, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “Yes, my love?” he said quietly into the phone. Abbie froze. “No... no, no... that's the dishwa—no, the dishwasher. It.. washes the... Is... is Miss Jenny nor Master Corbin there?” He sighed heavily and his hand dropped but his eyes remained closed. “My... my love... my lo— _Katrina_. Perhaps it would prove best to await my return and I can show you again. Yes, I understand it's very different from what you are accustomed... but it is perfectly acceptable for myself to see to such tasks.”

His eyes opened and their eyes met. A hard to determine expression crossed his features. Abbie didn't know if he was terrified at seeing her or silently pleading for her help. She went with the first option and quickly changed her direction for the door. Besides, she wasn't stupid.

“My love,” trying to talk the person on the other end through using appliances, and then giving up and just telling them you'd do it yourself when you got home? He already had himself someone. _Of course_. Maybe that was why her sister and Corbin were trying to discourage her from approaching him. They knew her motive and just didn't want to straight out say 'Oh don't bother he's got a girlfriend' or 'He's married.'

Actually, he didn't have a ring on so maybe he wasn't _married_ per se. Long term relationship, maybe? Or was it even a girlfriend? Maybe it was a boyfriend. No, he had said “Katrina” and last Abbie checked that was a feminine name.

Although she did wonder how different appliances were in England if the woman was having issues trying to work them.

But it still didn't answer why she always felt like he was silently pleading for her to notice him.

  
#  


“Never interrupt her when she's by herself and playing that song,” Sheriff Corbin said, causing Ichabod to startle.

Ichabod kept his hands clasped behind his back and did not turn to face the older man. “I had no intention of doing so,” he said quietly. It was the song she had been playing that day in the auditorium. Moonlight Sonata, Miss Jenny had called it. She was at the Corbin Family's old stand piano, playing with immense concentration. It was beautiful yet incredibly melancholy. And very fitting for his current state of mind. “Is there a reason why that particular tune?”

They were at the Sheriff's house and he had stopped by to let him know he was going away for a brief spell. Or perhaps permanently. Given the current state of things, he saw no reason to return once his journey had ended. There was nothing—no love, no freedom, no country, no fated duty—to keep him there.

“It's the song her mother taught her. Her real mother, not my late wife,” Corbin replied. “She only plays it when she's really happy or upset. You can tell which by what key she plays it in, but I'll be damned if I can tell the difference. If she plays it in reverse, she's just showing off.”

Ichabod drew in a deep breath. “Perhaps our paths shall cross again soon, Sheriff Corbin.”

The man scoffed. “God, I hope not. Or at least if it does happen, don't bring any otherworldly creatures along with you.” He clapped Ichabod on the back with one hand and shook his hand with the other. “Good luck, son.”

Ichabod turned and walked out of the main entry door. If he had known it would be the last time he would see the good sheriff alive, he probably would have said more.

  
#  


She hadn't thought about it at first. Mostly because there were very few instructors that worked the summer classes. But then she noticed a distinct lack of that feeling of being watched. Then she noticed a distinct lack of him looming in the darkness like she couldn't see his pasty pale ass. Hell, he was so pale he practically glowed in the dark.

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months.

Abbie tried to be candid when asking about him, tried to make it sound like just mild curiosity and not wanting to hunt him down and ask him why the hell he was ignoring her. The last she recalled seeing him was from the corner of her eye, at August's house. Sure there had been times she _thought_ she had seen him but it turned out to be one of the re-enactors that was still in their cosplay costume.

When the question about his whereabouts slipped out, Jenny glared at her hard. “Some kind of spiritual journey thing because his wife... died.”

The news hit Abbie like a ton of bricks. The brief glance she had gotten of the red head she had been young and looked healthy enough... “That's terrible. What happened?”

Jenny got a far away look in her eyes. “I'd rather not talk about it,” she said flatly. Abbie wanted to pry further but the look on Jenny's face said she was 1000% _done_ with whatever the situation had been. “It's best to just forget about him, Abbie. It could be another 250 years before he shows his face in Sleepy Hollow... and it would be too soon.”

Abbie arched a brow. “You say that like the last time he turned up he had been away for 250 years.”

Jenny's eyes bulged and she hastily stood and hurried out of the room. Abbie stared at the doorway, wondering just what the hell had just happened.


	2. Movement 2

If there was one thing Ichabod liked about buildings, regardless of the era, it was that there were always places to hide away. Much had changed about Oxford but even with updating, renovations, and remodelling he still managed to find his way onto one of the rooftops and tuck himself away, hide from everything, and stare up at the sky.

He was searching. For what exactly he wasn't entirely sure he just knew he would know it when he found it. He knew it was something to do with his fate and reasons for being in such a strange yet familiar place. It was only half an hour before the modern noises and lack of proper starlight made him retreat back indoors.

His ears pricked, as he descended a stairwell, at the soft sound of a tune that was becoming all too familiar. _No_ , a tiny voice in the back of his head said. _It... it couldn't possibly be..._ When he reached the bottom landing his heart started beating faster, he felt the even more familiar _pull_. He tried to tell himself that it was simply because one of the students was playing the tune he associated with _her_.

It couldn't be her, he told himself over and over but not able to convince himself otherwise.

The music became louder as he approached the room it was coming from. The door into one of the drama rehearsal rooms was propped open. He paused outside of it, closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. All he had to do was look in and see that it wasn't her and his mind would be put at ease. Then he could gladly curse himself for a fool and retreat back to his rental.

He took the one step, two steps, turned... and his entire world came crashing down. Not because it wasn't her... but because it _was_ her. Out of all the places in the world, their paths had crossed once again at this place. The current rendition of her favoured tune was slower and even more sombre than he remembered.

She missed notes, shook her head. She hit the wrong key and cringed. Finally she balled up her fists and slammed them down on the keys repeatedly. He stepped towards her, wanting nothing more than to sooth whatever was causing her to be distressed. He had to stop himself before he did something entirely regrettable.

Something that would make the sheriff and Miss Jenny very unhappy with him should he ever return to Sleepy Hollow.

He turned sharply and headed back towards the door, hopefully before she noticed him. His steps drew to a halt the moment her voice commanded, “Wait!” When her exclamation had the desired effect, she added, “I could really use a familiar face right now. And... you're all I got.”

He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath as her voice trailed off. How was he to be expected to deny her when her voice sounded so lost and vulnerable?

  
#  


Abbie wasn't entire sure what she had expected when she had called out for him to wait. But it hadn't been that he _would_ wait. It hadn't been that he would turn toward her and wait for her to approach. It'd hadn't been him making every effort to keep from touching her despite the fact his hands kept trying to reach for her.

She hadn't expected to not even make a proper introduction before pulling his mouth down to hers. Nor could she have anticipated how warm and welcome his mouth had been within seconds of doing so. Yes, she had wondered what it would be like to kiss him or if he would even be interested in kissing her, but she never imagined she actually would get the chance. And that, yes, he wanted to kiss her.

She certainly hadn't expected it to culminate in greedy hands tugging at each other's clothes in the drama department's costume storage, away from any cameras that might be around the campus.

It hadn't been expected but it certainly felt like they had been skirting around each other long enough that it didn't come as a surprise.

Jenny was going to be pissed.

Unless she just didn't tell Jenny she had let herself get thoroughly fucked, amidst colourful petticoats and shiny fabric, by the person she was constantly warned to no even talk to. Abbie wasn't going to regret it. She refused to regret it. Especially when it felt absolutely perfect and right to be connected to him in such an intimate way. Especially when Jenny, Corbin, and even man before her made a habit of keeping secrets from her.

There was no way in hell she was going to allow herself to regret enjoying his big hands alternating between gliding over her skin and gripped her ass while another generously sized part of him filled her. She clung to him as he drove her to orgasm twice in rapid succession.

When he finally let her feet back to the floor, he sank to his knees, panting. He rested his head against her chest as they tried to catch their breaths. Abbie felt herself smile and stroked her fingers through his hair. She chuckled at the absurdity of just how much bigger he was than her. Yeah she realized he was taller but, _damn_ he was a giant compared to her tiny frame.

Abbie let out a heavy breath as her heart finally simmered down to a normal pace. Everything she was going to tell him before she had just... let herself get caught up in the moment came crashing back to her. She let her head fall back against the cushion of costumes. “August died,” she said quietly.

When she looked down, he was looking up at her, shock on his own face. “When?” he asked.

“Jenny called me about an hour ago,” Abbie replied. “Heart attack... or so she claims. I have no idea if she's telling the truth or not about things involving what they do when I'm not around.”

His arms slid around her waist, hugging her tenderly. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

“I'm waiting to see if my... manager can get me a ticket home set up,” Abbie sighed.

“Manager?” Ichabod asked curiously. 

Abbie chuckled. “Yeah, this may come as a surprise but... in a few circles I am a pretty notable person. I'm doing a university tour right now actually. Then later this year me and few others are having a concert tour.”

She knew they needed to get out of the storage closet before security came lurking around for their nightly checks. Between his gentle embrace and just enjoying stroking his hair, she didn't want to move nor want the moment to end. Not to mention, returning to the guest housing meant she would have to listen to her hair and make up lady snoring through the night.

Not exactly her idea of a good time.

“So where are you staying at?” Abbie asked.

“I have accommodations at a small _flat_ just around the corner. Master Corbin assisted me in booking on a bed and breakfast website...” Ichabod replied, slowly clamouring to his feet. Abbie pursed her lips. Generally those kind of things had multiple people staying there. He must have somehow read her mind because he quickly added, “It is but a small studio type place... but... it is quiet and gives generous allowances of privacy.”

Abbie fished her underwear from between rumpled petticoats that had fallen to the floor and pulled them on before tugging her skirt back into place. Once he finished with the buttons on his trousers, she held her hand out. “Abbie Mills, by the way.”

His eyes went to her outstretched hand. He tenderly grasped her fingers and bowed over her hand. “I know who you are,” he said softly then kissed her knuckles. “Ichabod Crane at your service, Miss Mills.” His eyes met hers. “Would I be too forward in extending an invitation for you to join me at my... temporary residence?”

Abbie shook her head and found herself grinning like a jackass. She liked how he talked so properly. It was rare to find someone that even bothered to attempt much less seemed to have mastered it. It had intrigued her the time or two she sat in on one of his lectures and she had thought maybe it was just an act he put on to seem interesting. But, no, from what she had heard from others it was constant and unwavering... just like his choice of wardrobe.

He was educated, intelligent, and _always_ trotted ahead to open doors for women. Abbie once witnessed him run across the campus, in the pouring rain, to provide a young woman with an umbrella. That was it. He took her the umbrella and strode happily back from whence he came, despite getting soaked himself.

He was the closest to something that stepped out of a Jane Austin novel she or anyone in Sleepy Hollow had seen. Without all the nasty 'women belong in the kitchen' type things that one would expect to go along with it. In fact he had made quite the reputation with himself at the college with having zero tolerance for any of the guys showing any of the women disrespect. He had even put the biggest catcaller at Westchester Community College in his place.

To be honest, Abbie found it a bit sexy. If she were to be honest, just about every woman at WCC found it sexy but had never made a move. Not to mention her sister found him to be pretentious and irritating in a very “he is literally pretentious and irritating” way not a secretly-attracted-to-him way, which made him all the more appealing.

They could maybe work on the wardrobe... a little. With time. 

“No you would not be being too forward. Actually, I think I would _enjoy_ joining you at your place,” Abbie finally replied.

And for the two days it took to get a flight home for Sheriff Corbin's funeral, Abbie had very much enjoyed the time she spent in his company.

  
#  


“What the hell did I tell you?”

Ichabod held the phone away from his ear as Miss Jenny scolded him about speaking to Abbie while at Oxford. “What, pray tell, did your sister say occurred?” If he was going to try and defend his actions, he needed to at least know what Miss Jenny knew so not to get himself into even more trouble.

“That she ran into you at Oxford,” Miss Jenny huffed. “She said you didn't talk much but you sent your condolences about August.”

Oh, so she hadn't told Miss Jenny _why_ there had not been much talking.

“I told you to stay away from her Crane,” Jenny continued. “August told you to stay away from her... Let her have a normal life.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Did it occur to you, Miss Jenny, that she was the one to approach myself and she simply wished to inform me of Sheriff Corbin's passing? Considering you did not so much as send a brief text missive...” he said quietly so as not to disturb the peaceful lump under the blankets beside him.

Miss Jenny sighed heavily. “Fine. You get a pass this time. Where are you now?”

“Edinburgh, Scotland,” Ichabod replied. The peaceful lump under the blankets shifted and made a soft sound.

“Urgh,” Jenny groaned. “She's going to be at University of Edinburgh for a few days. Stay away from there all right? Even if the whole Apocalypse thing is over and done... we can't risk her finding out the truth about everything and wrecking all her hard work.”

“Certainly Miss Jenny,” he replied. A small smile pulled at one corner of his mouth as the bed lump shifted closer to him. “I shall stay far from the university so as to avoid making contact with your sister.”

As soon as he set his phone on the night stand, the warm lump cuddled up to his side and lifted the blankets to give him a sleepy smile. “Ha, joke's on her,” Abbie murmured. “I ran into you in town.”

Ichabod huddled close to her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she started kissing his chest. “How fortuitous that we both sought our early morning coffees at the same Starbucks...” 

Her fingers and lips traced the scar on his chest. “What happened here?” she asked softly. Her big angelic eyes looked up at him and a small smile touched her lips just before she kissed the scar again.

He sucked in a breath. “Many years ago I had a most unfortunate confrontation on the battlefield.”

“Couldn't have been too unfortunate,” Abbie said lightly. “You're still alive.”

He wished he could tell her that he had, in fact, not survived. But he had been very much warned against telling anyone, much less Abbie, the truth of how a man who died on the battlefield in 1773 was alive and well in the modern era. “Fate, it seemed, had many more plans for me,” Ichabod murmured, trailing his fingers down her her spine, making her arch against him.

Abbie lifted her head and smiled seductively at him. “I don't know about fate but I know _I_ have many more plans for you.”

Ichabod arched his eyebrows in interest. “Miss Mills... I am starting to think your interest in me is purely carnal.”

“That's very observant of you,” Abbie teased. She propped up on her elbow next to him. “But there are worse things to base a relationship on than great sex... Like lies and half-truths.”

He sucked in a breath as she shifted to straddling his stomach. He knew she was trying to get him to tell her everything and he was damned near ready to tell it to her regardless of what Miss Jenny had said. The best way to determine if Abbie was prepared to know the truth would be to tell it to her. The mystery remained in how she could tell he was not disclosing full truths.

The early morning light began to filter in through the window, making Abbie look like a beautifully naked, shining angel. And the last thing he wanted to do, at that moment, was lose her because she thought he was insane.

“What if,” he started, as her hands stroked down his chest. “The lie or half-truth is assure the happiness of another? So they do not have to know of unspeakable horrors which have taken place.”

Her eyes saddened. “Happiness built on a lie isn't really happiness, regardless of the intentions.” She leaned down and brushed her lips over his. “Like I said... basing a relationship on great sex isn't the worst thing. Besides, _everyone_ has secrets.”

“Yourself included,” Ichabod murmured curiously.

“Especially me,” Abbie replied. Her smile turned enigmatic. “You'd be surprised at the secrets I am hiding.” She placed kisses on the apples of his cheeks, just above his beard. “Secrets I'll never tell.”

Ichabod slid his hands up her back and rolled so she was pinned underneath him. “Then you shall never learn mine, Miss Mills.”

Abbie draped her arms over his shoulders in a loose embrace. Her eyes danced mischievously. “Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine,” she purred.

“If it were my choice I would tell you every secret locked away in my mind, whether it is relevant or not,” Ichabod replied.

“That's a start,” Abbie whispered. At least that was the truth.

  
#  


Abbie sucked in a deep breath as she broke out of the building, Ichabod on her heels. Her sister was going to kill her. If August was still alive, he'd kill her. Actually, they'd probably kill Ichabod first then kill her. She wasn't entirely sure what had just happened, but she knew she didn't want any part in it.

She shoved the stone tablet they had “procured” into his arms.

It was all she deserved. Then again he shouldn't have acted nervous when she asked what he was going to be doing while she met with her manager. It had been the first indicator that it was one of those things he was not at the leisure to inform her about. As soon as he left, she called her manager to make sure he could handle the details of her show later that night. Since Ichabod was on foot, he was actually pretty easy to trail despite the longer strides.

Mostly because she was in a car. She wasn't entirely sure she would have been able to keep up with him if she had been on foot.

Oh he had not been happy when she pulled up to the curb of the old dilapidated manor behind him. At the time she figured he could just get over it. If no one was going to tell her what was going on, she was going to purposely do stupid shit to show them that she _was not_ going to let them treat her like some kind of child.

Now she knew why they didn't want to include her. 

Especially since they had just nearly gotten killed retrieving the tablet. “Are you fucking crazy?” Abbie shouted. “Is this what you and my sister do? Is this what August did?”

Ichabod's eyes grew large and the delight that had been evident on his face disappeared. He drew in a deep breath and his head hung with shame. “It is but a small fraction of the trials we face,” Ichabod replied quietly. “Things are generally... much more dangerous.”

Abbie's eyes bulged as what he said sunk in. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Comparatively, a tunnel collapsing due to age and disrepair is but a small thrill compared to the actual dangers that exist,” he said, turning to glance at the tunnel in question. Dust and dirt was starting to settle. “But you _were_ quite insistent upon following me. In fact I informed you no less than five times to stay out of the tunnel, come back to the entry of the tunnel, to please turn back and return to the surface, not to follow me into the catacombs, and to—most importantly, might I add—not touch anything that looked as though it may potentially be providing structural support...”

“It was a _root_ , a god damn tree root,” Abbie objected. “How was I supposed to know pulling on it would cause an entire underground tunnel system to come crashing down? In what universe are fucking... tree roots structural support?!”

“The first rule of what myself, your sister, and the late sheriff partake in is... assume anything and everything can potentially kill you,” Ichabod groused.

“That's crazy,” Abbie yelped. “Why would you do anything that has that kind of risk factor?”

He stared at her for a long moment. “There was a time in which I did not know of the things I now do. I was ignorant of what fate had in store for me... everyone around me hid the truth from me because they did not think I could _handle_ what the truth was. And then one day I awoke and realized that, despite all my efforts to have a normal life—regardless of others trying to deny or change my fate—my fate was neither mine nor theirs to control. Fate found a way.”

Abbie nodded. Another fucking half-truth. He had tried to hide the tell-a-tale twitch of his fingers that occurred just before he gave her a heavily edited version of the truth. “Mmhmm... so you do this because you feel like there is some great and powerful design or mandate that says you have to put your neck on the line for...” she thrust her hands toward the tablet “... a slab of rock.”

“Certainly when put in such a context...”

“It's crazy,” Abbie interrupted. She started walking toward the car. “And you're crazy for doing this...” She sighed and turned back, arms flailing. “What is even the purpose of doing what you are doing? So, you are some kind of treasure hunter. I get that. Is there some kind of big monetary payout for that stupid tablet?”

“This was personal,” Ichabod replied. “So no, there is not the anticipation of monetary gain from this endeavour. Seldom is there one.”

Abbie shook her head. “That... that's even more crazy. What the hell could be so important about that tablet that you would risk your damn life for them? Is that what gets you history geeks off or something? Lose a limb seeking some lame ass treasure it's all good... if you nearly die getting it it's even better?”

“ _Abbie_ please...”

She lost it at him using her name. Not in a frenzied lost it but in a he had rendered her helpless lost it. It was always _Miss Mills, my lady, my dearest, my beautiful treasure_... She rubbed her eyes, sighed, then dropped her hand. “Just tell me... why do you do this? Why would you risk your life for something like this? Is it worth it?”

He hugged the tablet to his chest. The look on his face was vulnerable. God she hated when he did that. She barely fucking knew him and she hated things about him... the things that could make her just want to hold him and assure him everything was going to be okay. “If... if I can use it to convince Miss Jenny that we should include you, that we should be honest with you and allow you to decide...” his voice trailed off “...then yes, it would be worth it.”

His hands had been completely still. “Then just _tell me_ ,” Abbie insisted. “I won't tell Jenny that you told me. I won't tell her what happened today anyway so... Just tell me the truth. Or tell me goodbye.”

She watched him struggle for a moment. Then his eyes softened and he closed the gap between them. He trailed his knuckles along her cheek then reached down to grasp her hand. “Miss Mills,” he said, his voice a low regretful rumble as he bowed over her hand.

For a brief moment there, she thought he was going to tell her the truth. But then he took slow steps backwards until her hand fell from his. Then he was gone and she was left standing there wondering what the hell could be so terrible that leaving her was the better option.


	3. Movement 3

He had lost track of how many months it had been since he last saw her. He had sensed her presence. He had actively sought to follow the pull of her through the streets of Sleepy Hollow but always came up short, losing the sensation just before he reached her. He wasn't sure if it was because she was actively avoiding him or the strings of fate had decided make their paths diverge—albeit temporarily if the tablet he had found was to be believed. 

Even after he had finished translating it, Miss Jenny was still unconvinced that Abbie should be informed of what fate had in store. 

Miss Jenny was convinced that she could be a viable replacement for Abbie's role in the Fate of mankind, which was complete and utter rubbish. Fate didn't take replacements. Fate wanted what and who it wanted. And just like him, Fate wanted Abbie. The reappearance of young Master Corbin hadn't helped the case either, constantly agreeing with Miss Jenny—probably just to spite him.

No, he was being too harsh. They were only trying to protect Abbie, albeit they were doing it in a completely misguided manner.

Ichabod tapped his pen against the notebook he was writing notes in. He studied the tablet again frantically, hoping to see something he may have mistranslated... something that he could use to convince Miss Jenny... something to distract him from that feeling he'd been having the past few days.

It was the feeling he experienced anytime Abbie was near. But it had been constant, for the past two days, constantly thrumming in his veins. Usually it would ebb and flow depending on how close she was. Considering he had not left his apartment for a week... well, that was saying something. There was no logical reason he should be feeling that pull. Especially so intently.

More than once he had rushed out onto the small patio balcony to look ten floors down at the street to see if she was there. But no... the pull was strongest when he went inside. It was driving him crazy. _Why, why, why_ he asked himself repeatedly. Was it something new in their fates? Did it mean she was in danger? Did it mean she was thinking of him? Had it just gotten stronger? Did it mean some new danger would be lurking soon?

When the sensation had made him too fidgety to concentrate, he sighed in defeat and retreated to his bedroom. He tossed and turned and was grateful that it was yet a couple more weeks until classes resumed at the college. Perhaps he would see her there, even if it was from a distance and she turned away from him when their eyes met.

He jumped when a soft knock sounded on the French doors that made up a second entry onto the balcony. Ichabod scurried out of the bed and thrust the doors open only to find that no one was there. He scowled and turned to go back inside. It was then he saw it; a small note taped near the edge of the door. Probably just within reach from the neighbours.

_Wine for two? Ten minutes?_

He stepped inside to retrieve a pen and responded 'I am afraid I must decline' beneath the tidy handwriting. He stuck it to the neighbour's door and lightly rapped on the window before retreating back into his room. Before he even reached the bed, another soft knock sounded against the glass.

Ichabod sighed and returned. This time he immediately looked for a note on his door. This one had only one word: Please?

“No,” Ichabod said aloud. He had no desire for company or wine. He just wanted to be able to get to sleep sometime before the turn of the century. No sooner than he closed the doors and turned away, another knock sounded.

He yanked the doors open, opened his mouth to kindly tell his neighbour to leave him be when... all ability to speak fled. Abbie stood on the other balcony, dressed in a lacy, red, night dress, haphazardly covered with a red silk robe that hung down one of her shoulders. “You sure?” she asked, then moistened her lips.

Then he was clamouring over the short stone wall between the two patios, helpless to resist her. Nor did he mind too terribly when she admitted she didn't really have any wine.

  
#  


Closure.

That's what it was about. Get him out of her system once and for all. No regrets. No hang ups. Just one final hoorah to prove that it had all just been sex. Nothing special. Then she could let him go for good. 

Like a bad habit—she moaned loudly as his hands and mouth worked magic on her breasts—okay, maybe it was more like an addiction. Bad habits made you feel guilty, addictions made you want more. No, addictions made you _desperate_ for more—desperate enough to hunt down where he lived and put in an offer on the place next to him even though it wasn't for sale.

Addictions were dangerous. He was dangerous.

Dammit, what the hell was she doing? _He was dangerous. His lifestyle was dangerous._ And she had only seen the very tip of the iceberg. She just knew that, just below the surface, there was a massive hunk of ice waiting to demolish her.

His teeth grazed her hip. One of his big hands dipped between her legs and... she just completely let the idea of him being dangerous slip her mind. It was somewhere completely inaccessible. It went straight to jail, did not pass go, did not collect $200.

She was giving herself tonight to get him out of her system.

But then morning came and she burrowed as deeply into his embrace as she could. _Two days_. Two days would be more than sufficient. Then it was three, four, five... then she reasoned a full week was reasonable. Besides, she liked to snoop around in his apartment while he took a shower, that is, when she didn't join him.

The first time she nipped into his apartment she found where he had been translating the tablet. There had been numerous groups of papers, as though he had done numerous translations only to receive Jenny's red pen of doom at the top proclaiming “SERIOUSLY CRANE?!” with an arrow pointing to the title of “Legend of Sleepy Hollow.” It was also riddled with more exclamations throughout the translation to the extent of “wtf?” and “you've got to be kidding me” and “I like how this passage, when translated from Ancient Sumerian, somehow rhymes in perfect English. Creative liberties much, Crane?”

Jenny was like an over bearing and misguided English teacher with her notes on the various drafts. Abbie could see he was trying very hard to get a translation that Jenny would approve of. Something that didn't seem far-fetched or surreal. Although, to be honest, the entire context of the translation was a bit surreal.

Abbie picked up the tablet and narrowed her eyes to study the ancient text. She wondered how long his ass had to study to be able to tell one arrow from the other. Something told her it wasn't something one took weekend classes at the community college to learn. She tilted her head as she realized the thick slab looked like it was actually two thinner slabs stuck together. Had he not noticed that?

“What are you...” 

Abbie jumped as she heard Ichabod's voice at the same moment the slabs came apart. Her eyes widened, worried that he was going to get angry at her for snooping. “I... I was just looking at the tablet and... noticed...”

Realization dawned on his face at what she had done. He rushed over, holding his towel around his waist as he dragged a chair up next to hers. “There was _two_... the entire time... no wonder it seemed incomplete...” The second half of the tablet made his eyes widen with excitement. “Oh, Abbie... you wondrous woman.”

When he looked at her she was damn sure they were going to end up having sex on the table. She had no idea what the new tablet said but it certainly had Ichabod excited after just a brief glance. After that day she made sure to take peeks at the translations anytime he was distracted.

She also reasoned that she had three and a half weeks until she _absolutely_ had no choice but to declare him completely out of her system.

  
#  


The last week and a half had been absolute heaven. Even though Abbie had taken a turn to suffering from her monthly feminine issues, he had stayed by her side, fed her chocolates, watched female led action films with her—or as she called them, “real” chick flicks—and rubbed her aching feet and ankles. He had made every effort to make her feel pampered and treasured.

Ichabod almost had the second tablet translated. Once he did, he would be presenting it to Miss Jenny to plead his case that she would not be a viable replacement for Abbie during what remained of the trials of mankind in the Apocalypse. Surely she would see reason and they could tell Abbie once he finished.

Although he secretly hoped Abbie would piece together what was going on with just what she had seen of his translations thus far. After all, if Abbie discovered her fate on her own, Miss Jenny wouldn't be _as_ inclined to slaughter him even though he had purposely left everything out for Abbie to find. But Abbie was also quite clever so he had no doubt she would have hunted things down as soon as he wasn't looking, anyway. He just saved her the trouble of making a mess doing so.

There was, however, one particular day in which she neither came to his apartment nor invited him to hers. Instead all he heard was her playing Moonlight Sonata in the slowest tempo and most distressing key yet. Regardless of what warnings he had been given, he crept over the divide between their patios and stood in her open balcony doors. 

The bedroom she kept her piano in was directly next to his. She had turned it around so her back was to the doors as she played. When she reached the third movement, her key strokes became hard and angry. There was so much anger he was certain Beethovan himself would have been envious and awed by the tiny woman at the piano.

When she reached the end, she slammed her hands down on the keys. Ichabod's breath hitched as he recognized her behaviour. It was not unlike it had been the night he had come upon her at Oxford. He jumped when her fists came down on the keys and she hung her head.

“Why is it so hard for me to get you out of my head?” Abbie asked quietly. “I mean... do you feel it too?” She swung her legs over the bench to face him, tears in her eyes. “Do you? That... _something_ that just... lets me know when you're near?”

Ichabod rushed forward and dropped down to his knees in front of her, rested his head in her lap. Her fingers entwined in his hair. “Yes... yes... I have lost sleep because you were so close and yet I couldn't not have you at my side. I have often wondered if you felt it as well.”

“But we can't even be honest with each other,” Abbie said quietly. “I know you have secrets and... I... damn... I wish I could tell you mine. But I know if I said anything... it would break your heart and I don't want to do that.” She shook her head. “Not to you. And I know we're just... _wrong_. We shouldn't be together if we can't be honest with each other... But... I can't stand being away from you.”

Ichabod looked up into her eyes and took her face in his hands. “Then, do not be.”

She grasped both of his wrists lightly. “I wish it was that easy.”

  
#  


Abbie fidgeted as she looked at the calender. She had less than a week. Five days until she reached the date highlighted in blue and emblazoned with “2 pm.” It had been that way for the past nine months so it wasn't like she hadn't known about it at the time she started letting herself get tangled up with Ichabod.

He was just supposed to have been a fling, the last wild oat in need of sewing, the last step on the ladder. She should have known he would be difficult. There was just _something_ drawing her back to him constantly and consistently. She was hoping today would be the nail in the proverbial coffin to help her cut ties with him.

She was going to be finding out the truth one way or another.

Jenny slid into the seat across from her and slid Abbie her tiramisu latte. “So what was so important you couldn't wait to talk to me?” Jenny asked.

Abbie smiled sweetly. “Jenny... you know how you told me to stay away from that sexy consultant of yours?” Jenny arched an eyebrow. “Well... I fucked him in Oxford. And then I fucked him in Edinburgh... repeatedly. You know my new apartment? Right next to his... and guess what we've been doing since my third day of moving in?”

Jenny was struck speechless. She blinked at Abbie, mouth gaping.

“That's right,” Abbie continued. “We've been getting it on every which way imaginable for the past few weeks. Probably anywhere from four to six times a day. Hell I think this past Sunday we doubled that number.” When Jenny tried to form words, Abbie held up a finger. “I'm not done yet. And he probably didn't tell you but, I was tagging along when he found those tablets. So... I want to know... just what the hell you guys are involved with. And I want to know why. And I want the damn truth regardless of how nasty it is.” 

“I'm going to fucking kill him,” Jenny groused.

Abbie leaned over the table. “No you're not. In fact you're not going to say a word to him other than that I know the truth.” She lightly grasped Jenny's hand. “Because... Jenny... I know you wouldn't kill the father of my baby.”

That had hit Jenny like a ton of bricks. She searched Abbie's face. “You... You're...” Jenny looked around and lowered her voice. “You're pregnant? _By Ichabod_... what about...?”

Abbie shook her head. “Don't worry about that last part. But yes, by Ichabod. So I want to know the truth. I deserve the truth. I want to make sure my baby will have its father for a long time. So I need to know the truth. No matter how crazy it sounds.”

She held her most pleading look until she saw Jenny cave. Jenny sighed and lowered her eyes to their joined hands. “You know how... when we were kids... we saw that _thing_ in the woods?”

Abbie could feel the blood draining from her face and suddenly felt very glad she wasn't really pregnant.

  
#  


Ichabod puffed out a breath as the elevator doors slid open. He stopped short when he saw a gentleman standing outside of Abbie's apartment door. “I am afraid Miss Mills has said she would be out with her sister today,” Ichabod provided as he slid his key into his lock.

The gentleman was tall, but not nearly as tall as Ichabod himself. But handsome enough even Ichabod was able to take notice of it. He wore a crisp business suit and tie. At his hip was a badge identifying him as FBI. _The Federal Police_... A sudden panic seized him. “Has something happened to Miss Mills?” Ichabod asked, his eyes widening.

The gentleman seemed confused for a moment then smiled. “No... no... I'm sure she's fine.” He held out his hand. “Daniel Reynolds.”

Despite still being somewhat confounded by the gesture, Ichabod shook the gentleman's hand. “Ichabod Crane.”

Daniel's smile faded and he nodded curtly. “Yeah... I've heard about you. Abbie's _neighbour_.”

Ichabod couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more the gentleman wished to say. “If you would like I could send Miss Mills a text missive so she knows you stopped by? Or perhaps inform you of your visit once she returns?”

“Sure,” Daniel said with a nod. “Just tell her that her fiancé stopped by to see her new place.”

Ichabod opened his mouth to acknowledge the message but he suddenly realized what Master Reynolds had said... or... perhaps he had misunderstood? “I... I... Forgive me... you're her what?”

“Fiancé,” Dnaiel repeated. “The man she's going to be marrying in five days... I just wanted to make sure she had this place set up like she wanted it. I like for her creative spaces to be perfect.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and turned toward the elevator. He pushed the button to call it to the floor. “Oh, and don't worry about not knowing about me...” the doors slid open and he stepped inside. “She seldom tells her playmates about me. We both prefer it that way.”

  
#  


Abbie's head was still reeling. She felt nauseated enough to wonder if maybe she was actually pregnant. It was crazy. Everything was crazy. And, call her crazy, but she believed it. She believed all of it. But it was still hard to wrap her head around it all. Even though Jenny took her to a placed called The Archives and showed her all the different evidence of the crazy things, Abbie was trying to make sense of it.

So she went back to her apartment to think.

Normally when she had to think she liked to play Moonlight Sonata. But she was only twelve notes in before she realized it was just too damn complicated with everything else she had on her mind.

If she had known Jenny would crack so easily at finding out she was pregnant... Abbie would have tried it months ago. And fuck, she had been so out of it with the overload of information she had forgot to tell Jenny she wasn't actually having a baby. Oh well, that could come later. Maybe after she had a night of sleep and had time to process everything.

Abbie's fingers found the keys and she started lightly drumming out the tune to 'Chopsticks.' It was a basic enough tune that didn't require a lot of concentration while she sorted out her head. It was all so crazy that, for once, the sensing of Ichabod was just a dull buzz in the back of her head.

How did one go about accepting the idea that the very fate of mankind rested on their shoulders? That demons and God had it all planned out. And hell, just from what she had snooped from Ichabod's tablet translations apparently there was a lot more to come, despite Jenny and Ichabod 'winning' the first round.

She wasn't entirely sure how long she had been sitting there pondering, just that eventually a light knock sounded on the window of her patio door. Abbie pulled herself off of the bench and made her way to the doors to open them, allowing Ichabod in. 

Damn, he looked a mess.

Clothing askew as though he had just rolled out of bed fully clothed, eyes red and puffy as though he had been crying... His eyes roamed over her face. “Are you all right?” he asked softly, his fingers curling at his sides. He only did that when he was trying to keep from touching her. Why was he trying to stop himself from touching her? “You have been playing that same monotonous tune for nearly four hours. I was concerned.”

“Y... yeah,” Abbie said quietly. “I just... Jenny told me everything.” She looked up at him, suddenly not seeing him as a modern man with weird quirks but someone completely out of time and clinging to the things he was most familiar. She reached up and took his face in her hands as relief washed over his features.

“Everything?” he asked softly.

Abbie nodded. There was a reason she felt so drawn to Ichabod. Why she wanted to be close to him. Maybe _wanting him_ was just one of those things that came with their... _bond_. The idea that fate had been drawing them together all this time made a few of her decisions much easier. Besides, if fate was going to keep bringing them together it was only natural they should commit to it fully.

When she tried to pull him in for a kiss, he pulled back. His hands rested lightly on her shoulders and he put her at arms length. She looked up at him confused. “Ichabod? What is it? What's wrong? I know the truth... I know you're... you're from a different time... you were dead... you... I'm... we...”

He nodded shakily. “Indeed. But... you have already promised yourself to another and... I shall not, again, be the man that...”

Abbie shook her head. “No... no... this is different. This is not like you and... _this_ , _us_... _Fate_ brought us together Ichabod. I've been trying to run away from something I didn't understand for so long and now... Now I know that you and me were supposed to be together all this time.” Wait... “How did you find out about Danny?”

“I was coming in from a walk and... he had stopped by to see you whilst you were with your sister.” He stepped back and clasped his hands behind his back.

Abbie drew in a deep breath. “Danny and me aren't going to work. I don't know that we ever would have with everything I know now,” she admitted. “He's a good guy, don't get me wrong but... something always felt wrong about me and him being together. And with you, everything just feels _right_.”

Ichabod raised a tentative hand, then curled his fingers before tucking it behind his back again. “Indeed it does,” he said quietly. “But, had I known, I would not have... I never would have...”

“Danny and me had an open relationship,” Abbie said. “We tried to make it closed when we got engaged nine months ago. He did good... I just... couldn't. I felt like something or someone was out there waiting for me to figure things out. And all this time it was _you_. I was waiting for you.” Her own hands began to fidget at her sides. “Don't get me wrong, I love Danny. But not like I...” 

Her breath hitched. She had caught herself before saying the words. Could she honestly say she felt that way about Ichabod? They barely knew each other... and they had just now gotten their biggest secrets out in the open. It was only when his eyes filled with hope that Abbie realized, yes... she did. More than she could even begin to understand.

She stepped back close to him, trailed the back of her fingers along his jaw. “Not like I love you.”

The moment he kissed her she knew everything was going to be okay.


End file.
